Biweekly Beginnings
by SarcasticEnigma
Summary: COMPLETE! ONE-SHOT! Might turn into a series of one-shots. The first time Alfred met Jun was the day the Wayne's were buried. R&R please!


_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _Gotham_ or any of its character. I only own Jun and this idea.

 _ **Biweekly Beginnings**_

The first time Alfred met Jun was the day the Wayne's were buried. He'd gone to bring the car around and came back to find her speaking with Bruce, alone. His protective instincts went off like sirens and he surged on the woman kneeling before his charge. She had no right, no right at all, to approach Master Bruce and certainly had no right to speak to him! When he'd kindly ask her to remove herself, she had been polite but short. A friend of the family, she'd claimed. Oh, he doubted that. He doubted that very much. The second time he asked her to leave, he grabbed her arm and practically dragged her away from Bruce. She'd snapped something rather nasty in Mandarin at him, and then broke from his grip with practiced ease.

"I'm just trying to help," she insisted, trying to remain calm. The woman skirted around him and handed Bruce a card and left without a fuss. Well, not entirely. She did sneer at Alfred and, if his Mandarin was correct, call him a stupid bastard. Quite the temper on that one, he thought with a scoff of derision. Alfred snatched the card from Master Bruce: Dr. Jun Darrow, it read, with an address and phone number nearly printed on the back. Alfred pocketed the card, much to Bruce's protests, and told him it'd be best to put the woman out of his mind.

A few days later, Bruce approached him with one of his mother's old school yearbooks. Dead center of a page full of candid's, under the cringe worthy title of 'Friends Forever', was his mother and Dr. Darrow. Alfred snatched the book from young Bruce, after the boy made a rather flippant comment about how Alfred had been wrong, and sent him on his way. The cheek of the boy, he swore! The butler then spent the afternoon flipping through the collage of photographs and, sure enough, nearly every picture of Mrs. Wayne had Dr. Darrow at her side. Smiling, hugging, caught in the midst of wild laughter. While Bruce was holed up in the library, continuing his investigation of his parent's murder, Alfred conducted his own investigation. He didn't exactly have any contacts left, but he still knew where to find a reliable source; one phone call was all it took. Detective Gordon had been more than happy to confirm that Dr. Darrow worked closely with the GCPD, as a forensic psychiatrist and criminal profiler. The detective also told him that she was a good person; far as he knew at least, but the person he'd really want to speak to was their resident forensic scientist, Edward Nygma. Apparently, he and Dr. Darrow worked closely together and were friends; the only friend the bizarre scientist had actually.

After a bit of prodding – and a few irritating riddles that contained the answers to some of his questions – Mr. Nygma had been happy to share all he knew regarding Dr. Darrow. The first being that the address on the card she'd presented to Master Bruce was to her office/residence located in Midtown. She lived in Red Hook, not far from the Opera House, and Mr. Nygma often joined her for tea and they'd listened to the music echo from the Opera House. Her birthday was December 2, 1968 and Mr. Nygma commented that she was almost forty-seven but looked incredibly young, much to the envy of some of the female officers. Her mother, Mei Lin, was Chinese and deceased thirteen years due to lung cancer but her Scottish-American father was a retired GC policeman; one of the few honest cops, according to his jacket. The scientist practically sang her praises as he cheerfully related that she'd received her MS in Criminal Justice & Forensic Psychology from Kaplan, followed by her PhD and residency in psychiatry at Hopkins, and her fellowship was at Brown; all very impressive, Alfred had to begrudgingly admit. Mr. Nygma even told him that Dr. Darrow was in perfect health, other than being allergic to peanuts and breaking her arm the previous year. Apparently, once Mr. Nygma began talking, it was very hard to shut him up, even about minute and frivolous details that meant nothing to Alfred. But he did let slip that, when he first joined the GCPD, there were rumors about Dr. Darrow having been incarcerated but he'd never been able to find any trace of a criminal record.

"Dr. Darrow," Nygma told him and Alfred was baffled by how he called his only friend by her professional title only, "insisted on being assigned to the Wayne's case, you know, but Captain Essen denied her petition."

"Really?" Alfred hummed, intrigued. "And why's that?" Mr. Nygma chuckled and nudged his slipping glasses back into position.

"Well, I thought that would be obvious! They were good friends." Alfred stared blankly at him. Stuttering a bit, he added, "Dr. Darrow would meet with Mrs. Wayne…hmm, well, longer than I've been here. They'd get together maybe four or five times a week up until Mrs. Wayne's death. Coffee and gossip, I suppose." Alfred wondered how he had missed such a thing as his employer's wife meeting someone so often. And how long had it been going on for exactly? The man shrugged and sipped at his coffee. "She was too close," he clarified. "It was a conflict of interest."

In short, when it was all said and done, Alfred felt a bit like a tit. Dr. Darrow had told Bruce she wanted to help and, it seemed, that was very much true. Every time she tried to get in on the Wayne's case at the GCPD, she was shut down and turned away. Perhaps she'd hoped that Bruce, although a child, could demand she be allowed to assist in his parent's case. But the case was closed; Mario Pepper had been killed whilst attempting to flee custody so why she was so insistent on helping left Alfred curious. The butler informed Bruce of most of what he'd learned and, against his advice, the young man placed a call to Dr. Darrow and invited her over for lunch. He even offered Alfred's services, assuring her that he would see her safely to the Manor and home again. After all, the quickest route for her to get to the Manor was through Downtown, which wasn't the best part of Gotham, before crossing Queens River into the Palisades, which was a long stretch just to get to the Manor itself. The older man fought the urge to roll his eyes. Master Bruce loaning him out as chauffeur to a woman he didn't know, terrific!

The second time he met the woman had been at her home in Red Hook. He'd rung the bell and confirmed his identity through the intercom. A moment later, she walked out to meet him. Dr. Darrow had been cool and indifferent in her greeting, and he'd been much the same when he escorted her to the car. When he'd opened the door to the backseat for her, she just gave him a perplexed look and said, "No." Much to his protests, she sat in the front passenger seat and refused to move. She sat in the front bloody seat! She even had the nerve to taunt him when he stood outside the car gaping at her. She asked if he was somehow programed to only drive from a separate seat as his passengers and, if that were the case, asked if there was a steering wheel in the backseat for him because he was wasting precious time just standing about the sidewalk. No sense of propriety, he thought disgruntled.

"Martha was my friend."

Alfred supposed he deserved every bit of her disdain and her biting wit, given the way he'd treated her at the cemetery, but that was the first thing Dr. Darrow had said to him without a hint of the negative connotation. In fact, it was the first time she'd spoken since he'd joined her in the car and began their journey forty-five minutes ago. Needless to say, it had been a rather awkward car ride. He glanced over at the doctor and saw her staring aimlessly at the scenery as it flew by. Unsure how to respond, he told her that he knew that as Master Bruce had found an old yearbook of his mothers. Jun cringed at the thought of her teen years. Being a teenager in the eighties had been horrifying in terms of fashion. Martha, of course, wanted to try every trending style as it emerged and Jun had always been her guinea pig. She remembered her mother screaming bloody murder and grounding Jun for a month when she'd let Martha cut her hair into some short, spiky monstrosity. Still, she smiled and chuckled at the memory.

"She was probably the only real friend I ever had. The only Asian, and a "half-breed" at that, at a private prep school with a cop for a dad? They all knew I was a scholarship kid." She scoffed under her breath and shook her head, remembering how her peers had called her half-breed, trash, and a variety of other things to remind her that she was an unwelcomed outsider. Jun could hardly believe there had been a time when she'd let the opinions of prejudiced idiots influence her. "She was the _one_ person I could truly trust," the doctor explained with a soft smile. Martha had been her knight in shining armor back in their early school days. "I was never very close with Thomas," she admitted regretfully. "And Martha and I lost touch for a period of time which, admittedly, was my fault, but they were good people. They didn't deserve what happened to them. Bruce doesn't—" Jun cut herself off, shook her head and sighed heavily, running a hand through her inky black hair.

Alfred hummed in agreement as they turned into the Manor. "You couldn't be more right, ma'am." Once the car was park, Alfred moved around to help her out and suppressed an irritated sigh when she let herself out. Why couldn't she just let him do his bloody job?! Adjusting his waistcoat, he nodded at the smirking woman and led her inside the house. He held out a hand to take her coat but she just stared at him with another perplexed look. Awkwardly lowering his hand, he cleared his throat and said, "If you'll follow me, Master Bruce should be in the library." Before he could lead her to his charge, Jun put a hand on his arm to hold him back.

"I would never hurt him," she assured him. Alfred stared at her and noted the determination set in her shoulders. "You don't trust me." Alfred opened his mouth to protest but she just raised a hand and rolled her dark eyes. "Don't bother trying to be polite and lie about it. It's obvious. And I know you talked to Ed." The butler blustered a moment, having the decencies to look apologetic as she told him Ed could never keep a secret from her. "Look, I get it. I'm a stranger. I should've been apart of Bruce's life a long time ago, and that's a failing on my part," she said regretfully. "I wasn't always as put together as I am now, and _that's_ because of Martha," she admitted.

"I know Ed told you the rumors about me and they're…well, they're _partially_ true." She wanted him to know the whole truth, if she was to have a relationship with Bruce and become a fixture in his life as she hoped. "I was never incarcerated," she assured him first and foremost, and Alfred let out a small sigh of relief that he wasn't allowing a felon near his ward. "My mother's death was hard on me and I couldn't process it." Alfred squinted at her peculiar use of "process" describe her mourning. Jun had never been good at simple human connections, not even with her parents, not until Martha came along. Then her mother died and she…it was as if some wires had been crossed and she just couldn't understand that she'd never see her mother again. It didn't compute to her. "So I had a colleague prescribe me Valium. A few months went by and he stopped, decided to cut me off. Said I was taking too much and told me it was for my own good. One night, I broke into his office and stole his prescription pad and I started forging his signature to keep getting my pills. I was an addict, Mr. Pennyworth," she confessed seriously, regretfully.

"I lost my medical license and my practice because of it but, thanks to Martha, I didn't serve any jail time. Instead, I was admitted to a private rehab facility for a year." Something Thomas had paid for despite Jun's protests. Thomas had always been so kind to her, despite her many faults, and she knew that had been because of Martha's unending faith in her. "The record of my indiscretion was sealed, I worked my ass off to get my license back, and I have been clean ever since. Martha was actually my sponsor." Alfred supposed that was why she was meeting with Mrs. Wayne so frequently, as Mr. Nygma had told him. Reaching into her purse, Jun pulled out her wallet and unzipped the change compartment to pull out a bronze coin. She passed it to Alfred and he saw that it read "To Thine Own Self Be True" around the top. In the middle was a triangle that had the words unity, service and recovery place on one of its three sides. Inside that was a circle with an X. "Martha gave that to me two weeks before she died, for my ten year sobriety anniversary," she told him with a soft smile. Martha had always been a stickler for anniversaries and traditions, a fond memory that made the pair chuckle as he passed her back the coin. "I'd probably be dead if it weren't for Martha. I owe her my life. I owe her _everything_ , and the only way I can repay that debt is to solve her murder and protect her son."

Alfred shook his head, confused. "The murder was already solved, Miss. You know that."

"Doctor," she corrected out of habit. Alfred couldn't help but scowl at her a little bit, thinking she was being rather impudent, not that she noticed the look. "And, no, it wasn't. There's a rumor circulating around the bullpen," she whispered cautiously, "that, that Pepper guy was setup. If that's true then…" She raised her brows, not daring to utter the possibility that Bruce could be in danger.

The butler gawked at her. "You don't _seriously_ think—?"

"I don't know," she answered, shrugging helplessly. Jun didn't have the answers but she'd be damned if she didn't get them, no matter how long it took her. "Look, I _need_ you to understand that I would never let any harm come to Bruce. _Never_. So, whether you like it or not, no matter how much you grumble, and growl, and roll your eyes at me, Mr. Pennyworth, I am here to stay." Of course she'd noticed him rolling his eyes, Alfred thought miserably.

"Well, I thank you for your honesty." She nodded. It was no trouble at all for her, if it helped him to trust her. Step five of her NA program said that she had to admit the exact nature of her wrongs to a deity if she so believed, herself, and another person. Martha had been that person and, now, it was Alfred. "But I think you'll find you're very much mistaken, Ms. Darrow."

"Doctor," she corrected immediately. Alfred stared at her, thoroughly dissatisfied, but Jun was smirking. She was bloody smirking at him!

" _Dr_. Darrow." The doctor nodded at him, looking rather pleased with herself much to his chagrin. "You see, there are at least _two_ others you can trust. You've already earned the trust of Master Bruce and…well," he stumbled awkwardly, "you have mine as well." Jun smile softly.

"Well, in that case, why don't we start over?" Holding out her hand, she said, "Hi, I'm Jun." Alfred took her hand in his and shook.

"Alfred. Pleasure to meet you, Miss."

"Doctor," she corrected once again. Just like that, the moment had been ruined although she followed her correction with a cheeky laugh to set him at ease. Always had to have the last word, that one.

It became a ritual after that. Twice a week, Alfred would pick her up from her office after her business was done. Twice a week, Jun would visit with Bruce to reminisce about his mother and tell him stories he'd never heard about her. Twice a week, she'd stay for dinner with the bachelors of Wayne Manor and sometimes, if Bruce managed to work his charm, Alfred would relinquish control of the kitchen to Jun and she'd made their meal. The trio always ate in the kitchen, as the dining room felt too formal and empty for just the three of them. It went this way for some time until Bruce finally told her about his personal investigation into his parent's murder, and her visits turned from light-hearted affairs to her helping with his investigation in any way she could. Twice a week, she'd meet Bruce in the library and bring whatever clues she could find to add to their investigation. Alfred joined them in the library scouring over files and making connections eventually. Twice a week, Alfred would drive her home, walk her to her door, and bid her goodnight. And twice a week, whenever Jun made the forty-five minute journey to and from the Manor, she would, without fail, always sit in the front seat with Alfred.


End file.
